What Immortal Hand
by Angry Blood Sister
Summary: the Dark Man was coming for her; either to cage her or slay her, and she didn’t much care for either choice. Best go with the Red Knight, a future with him seems to be much more entertaining. . .
1. Prologue

What Immortal Hand Prologue  
  
She sat at the open window looking over the city. How beautiful it all was. The lovely and tempting Paris laying herself at one's feet to enjoy as they will. At least that's how it looked at first glance; the shimmering lights attracting the world to their glow. But Paris as she knew it was cold and harsh. The expensive yet fake beauty of the prostitutes, the hollow beauty of alleyways, this was the beauty she had seen of Paris. This was what she lived in. Yet she would rather surround herself with the dregs of Parisian society than be upheld by the betraying hands of the upper class. She didn't want to be among the light, she was content just to observe it from the shadows.  
  
Yes, she loved to be among the creatures of the night. Loved to converse with the forgotten children and forsaken souls. Yes, she collected life stories in the liberating darkness that came with the setting of the sun. She loved humanity, even more so now that she herself was no longer human. At least not by her own definition. To be human meant to be mortal, but death could never touch her now. Not since she first died all those ages ago.  
  
She sighed as she gazed out upon the lavish cityscape, the breeze lapping at her auburn tresses. It was a shame that she would have to leave this all at once gaudy and awe inspiring place so soon. And after it being her home for so many years. But no, the Dark Man was coming for her; either to cage her or slay her, and she didn't much care for either choice. Best go with the Red Knight, a future with him seems to be much more entertaining.  
  
Besides, I've never been to London, strangely enough.  
  
***  
  
He walked the dark halls of the cathedral, his heavy black boots falling noisily on the marble floors. The sound echoed thoroughly onward, heralding his arrival, but he didn't care. He had nothing to hide, so why sneak around?  
  
He turned briskly left, turning into a large archway that led outside. His footfalls became muted once his feet hit the moist grass of the inner garden. The cool early evening air crashed into him, a hint of the cooler weather to come on its breath. The summer was coming to a close and it felt glorious. Yet more proof that the one true God was in control of everything and His Divine Plan was at work. He breathed in, feeling the coolness of his surroundings invade his lungs and chill him from the inside out. He chuckled slightly at the sensation. Oddly enough it felt good.  
  
As his eyes began to adjust to the shadows of the moonlit garden, he could faintly make out a rather ornate fountain standing in the middle of a courtyard. No more than three feet to the left of it he saw a tall figure shrouded in darkness. His lip curled and he began to walk towards this new figure. His boots began to make noise once again as they fell upon solid patio stones.  
  
"Father Anderson," a high, nasal voice sounded through the night air. "You're early."  
  
Anderson was now standing beside the shadowy man and was looking at him. He was staring at the rising moon, it's luminescence shining down upon his face. "Is that so wrong, Your Grace?" he answered, and he turned to look at the moon as well.  
  
The two men just stood there together for countless moments of silence. The garden moved with life, all the miraculous nocturnal creatures of Nature that God had created, moving according to His design. Magnificent.  
  
"Father Anderson, my superiors have brought to my attention that you have been having some trouble in England." Alexander stiffened slightly at the mention of the Protestant nation. He unknowingly began to think of that Hellsing woman and her pet monster. But he quickly purged himself of such prideful thoughts. "But your endeavors involving the undead and inadvertently, the Hellsing Organization, will have to be put on hold for the time being."  
  
"Your Grace?" Alexander turned in surprise to the Cardinal, his superior in the Iscariot Organization. Without even so much as letting his eyes move from their spot on the lunar surface, the Cardinal continued.  
  
"We have been told of another anomaly. Another freak of nature. Apparently, the Catholic Church has been collecting information on this being for centuries, and feels that now is the time to capture it."  
  
"Is it a vampire of some sort, Your Grace?" Alexander asked of the man beside him, who still would not look at him.  
  
"No, not according to our records." The Cardinal responded placidly, face emotionless.  
  
"Than what sort of ungodly creature is it?" he demanded, disgusted that more unholy creatures were running freely around God's lands.  
  
"An Immortal."  
  
***  
  
"Here is your tea, Sir Hellsing." Strong yet aged hands set the silver serving tray upon the wooden desktop and began to arrange the contents in front of the only other person in the exorbitantly large office.  
  
"Thank you, Walter." Came the tired reply.  
  
As Walter poured the cream into the fine china cup, an equally tired and weary sigh slipped from his mistress's lips. Walter stood to the side of the large desk as Sir Hellsing took a sip from the cup set before her. But instead of his usual line of 'Will that be all?', he ventured onto more personal territory.  
  
"Is there something bothering you, Sir Hellsing?"  
  
Sir Integra Hellsing turned her head sharply to glare at her butler of sorts, but soon she found she hadn't the energy left. It had been a tiring week, and it was all catching up to her now. She was beginning to wonder if she had the strength required to be the head of the Hellsing household and Organization. Dealing with politicians, lawmen, the undead and Alucard on a daily basis was all becoming too much of a stress on her. She set her teacup carefully on its saucer and leaned her head onto her hands.  
  
"Yes, actually. I'm tired of all of this responsibility. At times like this I loathe this cross that God has bestowed upon me. I know that it is mine alone to bear, and I wouldn't wish it on anyone else, but still I feel overwhelmed." She sighed again, this time more heavily, as if to release all of the tension her small body was withholding.  
  
Walter stood by his mistress's side, overwhelmed himself at the information laid before him; that such a strong and noble woman such as Integra would vent her insecurities to him was both an honor and a burden in itself. For several moments he didn't know what to say, and he began to fear that the Lady Hellsing would regain her austere exterior and order him away, walling herself up again, but then words finally came to him.  
  
"It is not yours alone to bear, Integra. We are here to help you if you so wish to share the burden."  
  
Integra looked at the man she had known for most of her life. Both as a servant and a comrade of sorts, though nothing as intimate as genuine friendship had been uttered between them in all those long years. And now, for the first time in a long while, he had surprised her. Then suddenly, the concerned and readily comforting face that he had shown changed. He stood straight again, just as a proper servant should.  
  
"Will that be all for tonight, Sir Hellsing?" he queried.  
  
She turned her head, gazing into her cup of cooling tea and blinked, as if that single act could bring her back to reality. A reality where she was the master and all others servants. Where she was alone and left as such to make decisions no normal human could.  
  
"Yes, that will be all, Walter."  
  
-----------------------------------  
  
A/N: There, how was that? It just sorta popped into my head and demanded to be written, so I did. I've got lots of ideas for this, so if you guys liked it, please be kind enough to review and let me know. Otherwise I'll have to just leave it alone to die. Please, would you let an infant story die without giving it a chance at a real literary life? (hehehe) But seriously folks, please review and let me know what you think. This story has some real potential to grab at your heartstrings, so tell me: Yea or Nay?  
  
~ Tabitha, The Mad Hatter 


	2. And She Will Come Riding a Dark Horse

What Immortal Hand Chapter 1: And She Will Come Riding A Dark Horse  
  
Yes, she was on her way now. Everything she needed was packed. Fortunately, over the years, she had learned to pack light, and no matter how she would miss to bulk of her possessions, she knew she had no real need for them. If she ever felt the need, she could go back to Paris and take it all out of storage. Though she knew somehow that she most likely would never be going back there ever again.  
  
With one hand on the wheel, she effortlessly wove in and around the bi- border traffic. It seemed that both the English and the French were being bothersome and slow today. It would seem that her car - which was a good three decades older than most of the cars on the road - was faster and maneuvered better. How sad.  
  
She loved her 1973 Ferrari 246 GT[1]. It was sleek and compact, though had more than enough room for its sole occupant and her luggage, and was black. Yes, her car had personality, one fierce and mysterious as hers own, and with that in mind she had named it Dark Horse.  
  
Yes, it was now her and her steed against the daunting European traffic, heading towards a very unclear future amongst creatures of fancy.  
  
Knights and queens, and monsters with machines.  
  
Oh, this was going to turn out to be quite an interesting journey. She was sure of that. Her visions had shown her the Red Knight and all who surrounded him. Yes, they would keep her from the razored clutches of the Dark Man, but in the spaces between the initial move on the board and when the final battle would commence, she hadn't a clue yet as to what would happen. And she loved surprises.  
  
***  
  
He had left immediately after being briefed on the target. He wasn't pleased about it being a retrieval mission, but if it was God's will, who was he to question it. Cardinal Saphon had given briefed him personally, which was strange, and had handed the necessary information over to him. On the plane to Paris - apparently where the last recorded sighting of the mysterious and ungodly Immortal was - he had read it entirely from cover to cover three times. She was definitely a mystery, no matter how much information the Church had gathered on her. They had no idea as to where she had originated or exactly how old she was, but they suspected she came from southern Europe. And yes, it made such perfect sense that this thing was female. Wasn't it first Eve who partook of the Forbidden Apple, and then tempted she her husband with the evil fruit? All women held some of that most basic and ancient wickedness in them. Yes, it all made perfect sense.  
  
Also, included amongst the pages of scattered facts and historical nonsense, were pictures. No real photographs, all mere copies of catalogued evidence held by the Church. Sketches done by peasant portraitists, and artistic nobles alike, all varying in date and talent. But all portrayed the same woman, no, she looked like a mere girl bordering on adulthood. Nevertheless, she was fare in size and even more so in face. She had long hair, auburn by the written descriptions, and was also rumored to have deep brown eyes. He studied these pictures, wanting to know her face by memory, so as better to sight her.  
  
Yes, that had been on the way to France. Now that he was standing on the Rue Paul Fort, in the 14th District (a rather irreputable neighbourhood if he said so himself), staring up at a rather posh looking building that looked very out of place, considering where he was. This was apparently the current place of residence for the immortal abomination.  
  
On the sixth floor, having carefully broken into the apartment, Alexander began looking around the rather neat and modern looking loft apartment indicated by the file he'' been given. The place looked like someone had lived there for years. There were clothes in the closet, food in the refrigerator, even a load of clean laundry sitting the bed, ready to be put away. On the bedside table he found an agenda book. He picked it up, hoping to find any clues as to where the occupant may be when he heard the floorboards creak under another persons weight. Quickly he placed the book back where it had been and walked out into the main room. There, standing in the middle of the living room, was a woman other than the one he sought.  
  
At seeing Alexander emerge from the bedroom, the girl was at first shocked then afraid, and she bolted. Whether it was for the telephone or for something to use as a weapon, he didn't rightly know, but it didn't quite matter because he was faster. As soon as he was close enough he grabbed her wrists and held her in her place, facing him.  
  
"L'arrêter! Me lâche!" she screamed as she tried in vain to free herself.  
  
"Shh, don't be frightened, my child." He cooed softly to her, his thick accented English. For some reason, the gentle smile that spread across his lips and his calm voice soothed the woman's nerves enough to stop her from struggling and screaming. With her as his captive, though frightened, audience, Alexander continued. "Can you speak Enlish? My French is horrible." At this small admonition, the woman looked a bit disgusted.  
  
Typical French arrogance, he thought to himself while still looking straight into her eyes.  
  
"Yes." Came the slow, and slightly annoyed response.  
  
"Good." Anderson replied in genuine relief. His French was absolutely horrible and he didn't feel like making a fool of himself. "Now, if I let you go, you won't run or call for help anymore, will you? I only wish to ask you a few questions." He said still in a calm voice.  
  
The woman nodded and Alexander let go of her wrists, she in turn rubbing at them.  
  
"Forgive my rather rude intrusion of your home, I'm Father Alexander, I'm-" he paused only briefly. "-looking for someone." He took a couple steps back, enough to be respectful yet still capture the woman if she chose to run. She looked at him suspiciously, but answered all the same.  
  
"Well, Father," her French accent making the words sound even more angry and annoyed. "Who is it that you are looking for?" By this time she had stopped rubbing her wrists and had now crossed her arms, one eyebrow cocked. Alexander smiled at her again.  
  
"I'm looking for a Mademoiselle Ari Santos. I was told she lived here."  
  
"Oui, Ari lived her. Actually, she just left the other day, leaving everything to me. It was all très étrange." She let her arms fall in a half- attempted show of defeat or perhaps exasperation.  
  
"Really now?" Alexander raised his own eyebrow in surprise. "Do you know where she went?"  
  
This seemed to make the girl think. He watched as she rolled her eyes around while searching her mind for the answer. Then her eyes widened once she had.  
  
"Oui, I remember her saying had to go to London. Something about destiny and a Red Knight. Fou, non?"  
  
"Yes, well, thank you very much for your help young lady, and may God bless you." Alexander said to the stunned woman as he hurried out the door of the loft. No doubt she was still standing there when Alexander reached the street and was on his way.  
  
Onwad to England, he thought bitterly, and may God protect me.  
  
***  
  
It's a boring job, really, thought Officer Banneck.  
  
All he did was allow those who had appointments in, and those who didn't out. He felt like a bloody doorman at one of those fancy nightclubs. What made it worse was that no one really came to the Hellsing Manor, no one besides the usual police and such. It was all so bloody boring.  
  
He took a sip of his coffee - horrible stuff, but it kept him awake - and went back to watching a rerun of Eastenders when he heard the rumbling of an unfamiliar engine just down the road. He looked out the window of his guard house and saw in the distance a black sports car quickly making its way towards him. The closer it came, he realized that it was a vintage automobile, and had to have cost the owner a fortune. Banneck wondered why such a lovely car would be driving all the way out near the Hellsing Manor, and he was even more surprised when it began to pull up the short drive to the main gate and his post. A bit awe struck at the vision of a fine automobile, with it's black paint job and a small decal on the driver side door that read Dark Horse, he leaned out the window of the guardhouse and waited for the driver to roll the window down.  
  
When it did, he saw that the driver was an extremely beautiful, though young looking, woman with long auburn hair done up in a business-like bun at the back of her head, and stylish black sunglasses on, even though it was somewhat overcast that morning.  
  
"I'm here to see Sir Hellsing." She stated simply, looking at him with the lifeless glasses covering her eyes.  
  
"And your name?" Banneck nearly stammered as her asked the routine question.  
  
"Ari Santos."  
  
Banneck swiveled in his seat, typing the name into the computer. When no such name came up he turned back to the beautiful woman in the exceptional sports car.  
  
"I'm sorry Miss, but you don't have an appointment. I can't let you in."  
  
The woman looked somewhat annoyed, but not really upset in anyway. She shifted slightly in her seat before she replied.  
  
"You don't understand, young man, it's a matter of life or death. I must see Sir Hellsing." Her voice was calm, though annoyed, hinting only slightly at any underlying urgency. Banneck shook his head.  
  
"I'm sorry Miss, but rules are rules. I can't let you in unless you have a scheduled appointment."  
  
The woman in the black car frowned slightly at this, and tilting her head down slightly, she looked over the rim of her sunglasses at him and uttered in a calm yet threatening voice.  
  
"Damn your rules."  
  
And with that she grabbed onto the gearshift, threw the car into reverse, and backed up. He quickly dismissed the uneasy feeling that had just run up his spine in the form of a shiver, and turned back to the small tele. That's when he heard the sudden squeal of tires. He looked out the window just in time to see the black sports car speed towards the front gates and ram right into them. Surprisingly enough the car broke through, tearing one half of the gate nearly off of its hinges, though with noticeable damage done to the front end of the vehicle. Quickly, Banneck was on the radio yelling at the guards at the front door to stop the madwoman from getting near the house. Afterwards, he just stared in utter shock at the events that unfolded next.  
  
The black Ferrari sped onwards up the long driveway to the front doors of the Manor. But before the driver could do anything, the notified guards came running at the rampaging vehicle, shooting at it mercilessly. Several bullets hailed through the windshield, shattering the glass and embedding themselves in both the leather upholstery and the driver's soft body before sliding to a complete stop.  
  
Immediately the guards ran up to the now horribly disfigured car, firearms at the ready, to make sure the hostile intruder was dead. A quick look at the numerous bullet holes that riddled the driver's body and were bleeding profusely, and the lack of a pulse confirmed it. The intruder was dead.  
  
***  
  
"Do you have any idea as to why she broke through the front gates?" Sir Integra Wingates Hellsing asked coldly of on of the guards present at the days earlier excitement.  
  
"No, Sir Hellsing. Though Banneck, the officer on duty at the front gates, said that she wanted to see you, that it was a matter of life or death."  
  
Sir Integra sat in her chair, leaning forward on her desk, elbows leaning on the desktop and fingers intertwined parallel to her chin. She let a small 'hmm' escape her throat as she thought this new information over.  
  
"I suppose death won overall." She muttered dark-humouredly. Then looking into the guard's eyes she stated in the same cold voice. "That will be all. Dismissed."  
  
The officer saluted, then in true military fashion, left with a sharp turn, then was out the door, leaving Integra to mull over the days events. It was while she was thinking that a certain unnatural shadow coalesced in the corner.  
  
"Trying to understand why someone would want to 'storm the castle walls' so to speak?" Came the familiar deep, throaty voice.  
  
"Yes actually. Have you any thoughts on the subject, Alucard?" she asked flatly.  
  
"I would think that someone such as that was desperate to gain audience with you. It seemed important enough to her to risk her life. Too bad we will never know what it was." He grinned mischievously down at his female master.  
  
"That much was apparent, Alucard, and a witty saying proves nothing." [2]  
  
All she received in reply was an amused chuckle.  
  
~~~  
  
A dark figure crept out of the manor's infirmary, keeping to the shadows in order to avoid being seen. If anyone had been watching, they would notice that it was heading towards the Hellsing office.  
  
~~~  
  
"But one has to wonder, why would she have run right through the front gates towards the inevitable gunfire? Why not try to sneak in?" Integra thought out loud, not even bothering to look at the vampire standing in front of her desk.  
  
"It is of no real consequence now, is it Master? She is now dead." Again, Alucard grinned broadly, his pointed teeth shining in the dim light of the desk lamp.  
  
"Yes, I suppose your right." Integra replied, not too convinced for some unknown reason.  
  
~~~  
  
The stealthy shadow padded silently down the stone hallway leading to the main office of the Hellsing Organization. Once at the door, it could feel the two beings inside, knew what both of them were, and not fearing either for various reasons. It reached for the handle . . .  
  
~~~  
  
Alucard's grin slipped, his preternatural senses picking up a disturbance of some kind. A presence that wasn't quite human, just outside the door. Integra saw this and straightened, watching warily as the vampire turned slowly towards the door, just as both heard the handle turn. Slowly the large wooden door opened. Alucard stepped in front of Integra, to protect her if need be, but the Hellsing heir wouldn't sit for it so to speak. She stood and walked around her desk, angry for the intrusion.  
  
"How dare you come in her uninvited! Who are you?" she demanded of the shadow in the doorway. Alucard's hand was halfway to his hidden weapon when the figure moved into the dim light cast about the room. There stood a young woman, hair dishelved and clothing all ripped and bloody.  
  
Then, much to Integra's surprise, Alucard gave a hearty chuckle. Then surprised and annoyed her next with what he said.  
  
"I guess she's not as dead as we both thought."  
  
Integra scowled at her undead operative, then glared at the intruder, and was about to demand an answer when she was cut off. The voice uttered from the woman was soft and pleading, but not desperate and weak in any way.  
  
"Sir Inegra Wingates Hellsing, my name is Ariadne. I come here to ask that you grant me asylum."  
  
----------------------------------  
  
[1] It's a classic. An absolutely gorgeous car!  
  
[2] "A witty saying proves nothing." - Voltaire (1694-1778)  
  
A/N: Interesting, no? I know that the total of three people that reviewed wanted to see more, so here it is. But if I don't get more reviews, I may just forget about this entire thing and leave everyone hanging. People, if you read something, it's only polite to tell the person what you thought of their work, whether it's a flame or a compliment. So please, review.  
  
~ Tabitha, The Mad Hatter 


End file.
